


Remnants

by theblobfishwrites



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angrily screaming your feelings at each other, Getting Together, Gore, Haunted Houses, How does magic work in the witcher? However I need it to for the fic is how, Hurt/Comfort, I suppose, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Temporary Character Death, There Is Only One Bed, Ugh that makes it all sound a lot more grave than it actually is, attempted suicide under possession, it has a happy ending i promise, self-harm in the sense that blood is required for a spell, there’s a lot of blood in any case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23549071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblobfishwrites/pseuds/theblobfishwrites
Summary: "We shouldn't stay here. I don't like it," Geralt growled after he had finally convinced Roach to follow him inside and then had looked around."Ah come on, don't be like that!" Jaskier pouted again. "Does that village of yours even exist or did you only make it up? This is the best thing we'll find to stay the night!""A single house in the middle of the forest, far from any settlement and abandoned. It's probably full of monsters. Or doesn't this seem too good to be true to you?" Geralt pointed out surly.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 73
Kudos: 242





	1. Jaskier: All Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Have a haunted house fic, because I thought that would work perfectly for this fandom, though I haven't actually seen it yet. Don't expect it to be scary though, I can't do scary xD
> 
> Updates every week!

It had been storming all day. Jaskier's clothes were soaked to the point that it was hard to tell where the fabric ended and his skin started. It felt like the elements were raging directly against his bare skin. He shivered and pressed his face harder into Geralt's back before him, wrapped his arms even tighter around the witcher's chest. 

They had been riding through the thick forest together on Roach for hours now. Geralt kept insisting there was a village up ahead along the road that he'd visited before, but Jaskier had started suspecting Geralt had only made it up. 

He was so tired. All he wanted was to lie down somewhere and never have to open his eyes again. He almost considered suggesting they should just make camp here somewhere. Almost. He shivered again, as a gust of wind found its way under his shirt. 

Jaskier forced himself to sit up straighter and turned his head sideways to watch the trees pass by them as Roach was rushing past them, spots of green and brown all blurred together. He had to stay awake somehow, because if he fell asleep against Geralt's back now, knowing himself and his tendency to attract trouble, he would surely manage to fall off and break several bones in the process. And burying his face into Geralt's back, as lovely as that was, was a dead certain way of falling asleep right now. Gods, he was so tired. 

It didn't help. The never-ending canvas of forest colours offered nothing to catch his focus on and Jaskier could feel himself dozing off slowly. He had to hope his grip around Geralt's waist was enough to keep him upright. 

Suddenly, there was something else shimmering through the treeline, some other colour appearing here and there between the green and dark brown of the trees. Some lighter brown and white and a bit of red, like bricks. Jaskier sat up and tried to make out what it was. 

He turned back forward and knocked on Geralt's shoulder. 

"Geralt!" he screamed into his ear, trying to get the witcher's attention over the thundering storm. "Geralt there's a HOUSE! Geralt? Geralt! Let's check it out, maybe we can stay the night there!" 

Geralt growled, annoyed. Jaskier could more feel it through the rumbling in Geralt's back against his chest than really hear the sound. But Geralt did pull on the reins and slowed Roach down. 

The house wasn't visible through the trees from their current position. Jaskier could feel blood shooting into his face. If he had only imagined the whole thing that would be extremely embarrassing. But he was certain he had seen something over there! 

He slid off of Roach's back, pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and hurried towards the treeline, before Geralt could get a good look at his bright red face. 

After a few moments of running through the rain he reached a little clearing, in the middle of which indeed stood a house. A very big one even. 

It was elegant and very imposing, with two floors and a wide porch roof over the entrance. Or rather it had been very elegant and imposing at some point. Now it was looking rather a bit… run down, with vines growing over it, the white paint peeling off in various spots and exposing the bricks underneath and with a couple of windows missing the glass. But still, back in its prime this house, or manor rather, would have been the kind of place Jaskier would have felt comfortable living at. 

He hurried under the roof and turned around to check if Geralt was following him. The lack of water pouring onto his head was a true blessing. He sighed in relief and forced his pulled up shoulders to relax. 

Geralt appeared a few moments later, one hand clutching the hood of his cloak so the wind wouldn't blow it off and leading Roach behind him by the reins with the other hand. He looked up at the house and surprise flashed over his face for a short moment before it quickly vanished again from his features. Geralt hadn't believed him, Jaskier realised, and pouted. 

But then the corners of Jaskier's mouth twitched up into a smile again, he was simply too relieved at the prospect of a good, and most importantly dry night's rest to really care what Geralt had thought. 

Geralt and Roach joined him under the roof. 

"Looks abandoned," Geralt remarked. 

"All the better! No one to kick us out!" Jaskier chirped happily and twirled around to open the front door. Which promptly tilted inward under Jaskier's touch and fell onto the wooden floor inside with a loud "thud". The hinges had rusted through. 

"Definitely abandoned!" Jaskier shrugged and carefully stepped over the broken door into the foyer. He looked around. Several doors led deeper into the house and a symmetrical pair of wide stairs curled upward towards a door that led to the second floor. 

A large chandelier covered in dust and cobwebs was lying in the middle of the room, a broad iron hook still attached to the roof above it where it had hung. Really, this place would have been to Jaskier's liking back in the day. 

Geralt followed him, dragging Roach behind him through the door frame. Roach didn't seem too pleased with that and Geralt had to quite pull on the reins and whisper sweet nothings into her ear to convince her to step over the broken door and out of the worst of the storm. Jaskier would never understand that horse. Who would want to stay outside in such weather? 

"We shouldn't stay here. I don't like it," Geralt growled after he had finally convinced Roach to follow him inside and then had looked around. 

"Ah come on, don't be like that!" Jaskier pouted again. "Does that village of yours even exist or did you only make it up? This is the best thing we'll find to stay the night!" 

"A single house in the middle of the forest, far from any settlement and abandoned. It's probably full of monsters. Or doesn't this seem too good to be true to you?" Geralt pointed out surly.

Jaskier refused to give up on his discovery. He had found a dry place to spend the night and he would not to be talked out of it again. There was no way he'd go back out into that storm. Geralt was clearly insane for suggesting as much. "Psh, you're just paranoid. Side effect of the job. If there's really any monsters here, you can just kill them and then we can finally go to bed!" 

Geralt opened his mouth to say something else, but Jaskier kept talking over him. "Besides, one should never look a gift mouth in the…into the…" Jaskier frowned, trying to concentrate and then let out a deep yawn. He was simply too tired for this discussion. 

Geralt looked over to Jaskier and studied his face. The witcher's expression almost seemed to soften a little. Roach neighed. 

"Right. The horse. Thank you, Roach!" Jaskier finished his thought. 

"You're probably right," Geralt sighed after a few moments of silence without specifying which part of Jaskier’s words he was referring to. "Fine. The stairs look stable enough and with the broken door it's probably warmer upstairs. See if you can find us a good spot for the night, while I get the saddle off Roach." 

Jaskier beamed a bright smile at him and hurried up the stairs. 

"Just scream if there's any monsters," Geralt yelled after him. Jaskier rolled his eyes. Not that the witcher could see that. 

Jaskier opened the door to the second floor and found himself in a large library. Huge wooden shelves filled with old, leather bound books on the brink of falling apart lined the walls. In the middle of the room stood a little wooden lectern to prop books up onto, a thick tome in the elder language was lying open on top of it. Jaskier glanced at it as he walked past but couldn't make out the meaning of the words in passing. It was some odd dialect he didn't know. 

Jaskier picked one of the doors leading further in at random and left it open behind him so Geralt could follow. The next room was the bedroom. In the middle of the opposite wall stood an impressive canopy bed. The actual canopy and the sheets had long since rotted away, but the wooden beams seemed sturdy enough and as Jaskier carefully pushed down on the mattress to test it, it seemed decent enough to spend a night on it. 

Unfortunately, this wasn't as lucky a find as it seemed. Jaskier frowned at his discovery. It meant they would be sleeping on the bed together. It was simply the most practical solution, and that was…not a very good idea for Jaskier right now due to certain circumstances. 

He could go looking for a second bedroom, but that might raise suspicions and awkward questions. Geralt and Jaskier would sleep in the same bed occasionally, whenever the situation called for it, when there was only one inn room left or if they didn't have enough coin to pay for individual rooms, or they would huddle together under one blanket when they were forced to camp out during a particularly cold night in order to warm one another. So it would be weird for Jaskier to insist on finding his own bed, when he was drenched and tired. Besides, Geralt would probably insist they stay in the same room in case there was some danger around after all.

But as much as Jaskier loved to sleep by the witcher's side, it also meant that he would spend the entire night trying very hard to focus on anything other than the naked chest of the man behind him. Because of course Geralt always slept with only some pants on. Geralt didn't seem to have any kind of concept of decency in that regard and often strolled around partially (and occasionally fully) naked in front of Jaskier. And Jaskier always had to fight very hard to not…well…

Jaskier had fallen in love with the witcher somewhere along their travels. Deeply. The witcher was certainly attractive with his muscular body covered in scars and that burning intensity in his beautiful golden eyes. But there was something more to it. Geralt was always acting rough and hostile and intimidating around other people and yet Jaskier had seen his true self shine through underneath, had seen the compassion and eagerness to help others selflessly that Geralt carefully hid. It had captured Jaskier's heart easily. 

But Jaskier would certainly die of embarrassment if Geralt would wake up one night to Jaskier having a boner. It would definitely raise some questions. And having to admit to unrequited feelings always sucked and on top of that it might ruin their friendship. Or whatever Geralt would call what was going on between them when he insisted that they weren't friends. 

So Jaskier knew that his feelings were most definitely unrequited. Besides, the witcher had no problems whatsoever falling asleep next to Jaskier with only inches of space between them. Geralt always slept as soundly as a child next to him, as if Jaskier wasn't even there. Of course it was just Jaskier’s luck that he'd fallen in love with someone who was in love with another person. He didn't blame Geralt. Who could resist the powerful, beautiful Yennefer? A humble bard such as himself simply stood no chance against such competition. 

And while Geralt didn't seem to mind sleeping next to Jaskier he wasn't very fond of it either. Whenever Jaskier finally managed to drift into a superficial nap those rare nights of sharing a bed, he would wake up the next morning to the other half of the bed vacant, Geralt already in the washing room or even down in the dining hall for breakfast. Geralt always got up early, of course, but he got up even earlier when they slept next to each other, as if he couldn't get away from Jaskier again fast enough. 

Of course Jaskier immensely enjoyed any kind of proximity between them nonetheless, he was a lovestruck fool snapping for any sort of scraps of affection or even tolerance that Geralt tossed his way, but with the dreadful weather throughout the last couple of days they had already spent the last two nights cuddled together for warmth and so Jaskier had already been barely able to stay on his feet all day from lack of sleep and now it seemed he would have to add yet another night with barely any shut-eye. Jaskier would surely fall off Roach tomorrow, snoring. 

Geralt walked into the room behind him and startled Jaskier out of his thoughts. Jaskier turned around and tried to throw a bright smile in Geralt’s direction, but it turned out more like a suppressed yawn. 

“No monsters, and also a bed. Still wanna find your village?” he beamed.

Geralt looked at the bed and then at Jaskier and back at the bed again. 

“Hmm. It might not hold the weight of both of us anymore. I can sleep on the floor if you want,” he offered.

Jaskier frowned. The bed was old, sure, but it was of quality work and looked sturdy enough to hold both of them and possibly even Roach on top of it, at least for a night. Seemed like the witcher had gotten tired of sleeping next to Jaskier.

But the idea of having Geralt sleep on the floor while Jaskier was comfortable in bed also really wasn’t an option Jaskier would be too happy with. The witcher was already fed up enough with Jaskier’s love for comfort and luxury inconveniencing him as it was. Jaskier didn't want to give him another reason to just leave him behind one day. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. The bed is perfectly fine and we shouldn’t waste it. Come on,” Jaskier said determinedly and walked over to Geralt to fish his bedroll from the bags that Geralt had carried up on his shoulders. He spread the bedroll out on one side of the bed and attempted to climb in. Before he could do so though, Geralt held him back by his elbow. 

“What are you doing? You need to get out of those wet clothes first if you want to ever get warm tonight.”

Jaskier blushed. He had been vaguely aware of the concept that sleeping in wet clothes wasn’t the best of ideas, of course, but taking them off wasn’t really much of an option either because…

“I don’t have any dry clothes left though!”

And the idea of sleeping next to Geralt naked was...well, he had certainly daydreamed about being naked in bed with Geralt of course, but in reality, the idea of being naked and only a few inches away from Geralt while not allowed to close that small gap between them was pure torture. He would not survive the night that way. 

Geralt sighed, annoyed, and started rummaging in his bag for something. When he found what he’d been looking for, he tossed it to Jaskier forcefully, but Jaskier still managed to catch it out of the air. 

It was a large, black shirt. One of Geralt’s large, black shirts. Oh boy. 

Jaskier turned even redder and just stared at the shirt in disbelief. Geralt sighed again. “I’ll be next door, so you can change,” he said, and then Jaskier was alone with the witcher’s shirt in his hands. 

Now unwatched he followed the urge to bury his face in the soft fabric. It smelled like the distinct mix of hay and sweat and warm breath that greets one on the doorstep of a barn, like beeswax and leather, like dried meat and campfire smoke and fresh air after a rainfall.

In short, it smelled like Geralt. There would definitely be no sleep for Jaskier tonight. 

Jaskier quickly undressed and slipped into the shirt, which was more like an oversized nightgown on him even though they were almost the same height, but of course Geralt was a lot broader than Jaskier with his ridiculous amount of muscles. 

Jaskier hurried to slide under the covers, so he wouldn’t have to hear whatever snarky comment Geralt might have as to how ridiculous and scrawny Jaskier looked with the witcher’s clothes on. Jaskier could feel the heat in his cheeks rising into the tips of his ears now. He curled into a tight ball on his side of the bed to warm himself and tried to push those thoughts away, focusing instead on how good it felt to finally be dry again. 

Geralt returned from the library room, now dressed in a different pair of pants and his chest bare, unsurprisingly. Jaskier quickly buried his head in his pillow, knowing that if he looked too long at those muscles he wouldn’t be able to stop staring again. Geralt threw his own bedroll on the other side of the bed and climbed in behind Jaskier. He could feel the warmth radiating off of Geralt’s body and fought the urge to cuddle closer. 

Yup. It would definitely be another sleepless night.

Nonetheless, Jaskier did eventually manage to drift into an uneasy sleep a couple of hours later. Only to be woken up again by something what seemed like only a few moments later. He sat up and looked around, eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. What had woken him so suddenly?

And then he heard it again, somewhere far off in another part of the house: voices. There was someone else in the house with them. 

Jaskier inhaled sharply and shook Geralt’s (naked. Let’s not think about that) shoulder. 

“Geralt! Geralt!” he hissed. “There’s someone there!”

Geralt growled and slowly sat up next to him, the bedroll sliding off his shoulders and revealing the outline of his muscular upper body illuminated by the tiniest hint of moonlight that had found its way through the windows. Jakier blushed again and hoped that it wasn’t visible in the dark. 

“What? What’s up?” Geralt looked around, rubbing his eyes. “I hear nothing. Are you sure?”

The voices had subsided now, but Jaskier was sure about what he had heard. It had woken him up, after all.

“Yes, I heard several people shouting! They’re in the house somewhere. We should check it out!”

He climbed out of bed in an effort to put some distance between himself and the witcher’s. naked chest. 

“I don’t know, Jaskier. You probably just had a bad dream,” Geralt mumbled sleepily. “Don’t you think if there’d been voices, they would’ve woken me up, too? My ears are better than yours after all. Witcher senses and all that."

Jaskier frowned. It wasn't his fault the witcher was so unaffected by a barely dressed Jaskier next to him and had slept deeply without an issue. Jaskier knew what he had heard. 

"Fine. Don't believe me then. I'll check it out anyway," he pouted. 

"Right. You do that then," Geralt said dryly and shuffled into the sheets again, his back to Jaskier. 

"Geralt!" Jaskier pleaded, rubbing one of his naked feet over the other to warm them against the cold wooden floor. 

"What?" the witcher asked, grumpily, his voice muffled by the pillow. 

"What if it's bandits," Jaskier whined. Geralt's shoulders stiffened under the blanket. 

"Right," he mumbled finally and climbed out of bed. "Let me just get my swords." He kneeled down beside the pile of their things next to the bed and started rummaging through it. 

Jaskier relaxed and headed over to the door closest to the direction he thought he had heard the voices coming from and tried in vain to pull Geralt's shirt further down over his legs. Why did the damn thing have to be so short? After all, whenever they weren't standing right next to each other, Geralt always gave off the impression of being far taller than Jaskier. 

Behind the door was a small, windowless room with swollen spots on the wooden floor. It probably used to be a washing chamber, though there was no tub to be seen. The room was empty except for several thick, dust coated cobwebs decorating the corners and the door frames of the two other doors. Jaskier shuddered at the sight. He hoped the ones responsible for the cobwebs had abandoned their home as well. If it were up to Jaskier, the existence of anything with more than four legs should be outlawed. It was just creepy, whether it was a looming Kikimora preparing to eat him or a simple small house spider. Nothing should have that many legs. Jaskier pushed the thought out of his head, took a few steps into the room and listened intently for the voices while waiting for Geralt to follow. 

Suddenly, there was a loud bang behind him. Jaskier flinched and spun around on his heels. The door to the bedroom had been thrown shut, leaving him in complete darkness. "Geralt?" he shouted uncertainly. No answer. 

He fumbled towards the direction of the door until he felt the doorknob under his fingers and tried to open it again. It was locked. Or maybe it was held close from the other side. 

"Geralt, this isn't funny! Open up!" 

He tried rattling on the doorknob, which still refused to move. 

"Oh hardy-ha. Fine, I get it. You're annoyed. I'll promise to be quiet, okay? Now please let me back in before I Ah!"

He jerked his hand back as pain rushed over his palm. The doorknob had turned steaming hot under his grip. Jaskier pressed his hurting hand against his chest protectively and rubbed over the burning palm with his other hand. 

"Are you bloody serious?" he screamed. "Did you really just use your stupid fire spell thing on the doorknob? This isn't funny anymore, Geralt! That seriously hurt! Let me back in you bastard!" 

He kicked the door, which vibrated in the doorframe in response but didn't budge. Still there was no reaction from the other side. 

Tears formed in the corners of Jaskier's eyes. The witcher had finally gotten enough of him. He was clearly intent on locking Jaskier out for the night. 

"You could have at least thrown me my pillow or something," he mumbled, still rubbing his throbbing hand. 

Jaskier sobbed. This was such a mean thing to do, even for someone who was said to not have any emotions. 

He could not let the witcher get away with this, he decided. He could have seriously hurt his hand from that stupid prank! And then he wouldn't have been able to play his lute anymore! This was definitely beyond the realm of funny!

He turned his back to the door, considering what to do. 

Houses this big usually had more than one set of stairs, he thought, a smaller staircase for the staff and also because it was simply annoying to run all the way across a building this big if one just wanted to change floors. He could find this other staircase, head down, find his way to the entrance hall and enter the bedroom from the front again to lecture Geralt on what he thought about his little trick. 

And even if Geralt had locked the other door as well, he could at least snuggle up to Roach downstairs and sleep a little more comfortably than on the naked floor, barefoot and dressed only in a thin, too big shirt. He hated that it still smelled so incredibly good to him, even though he was busy being angry with Geralt. 

There was, of course, still the matter of the other people in the house. He definitely hadn't imagined those voices, no matter what Geralt thought. But even if Jaskier did run into them, they surely couldn't be worse company than the fucking witcher! Maybe he would find some travel company that appreciated his presence. Jaskier ignored the voice at the back of his head that told him that those people might be dangerous. Exploring the house was definitely preferable to just waiting out the night on the cold floor. He would deal with whatever those people wanted when he got to them. Or maybe he'd even manage to sneak past them. 

Jaskier carefully felt his way along the wall with his non-hurting hand and pulled a face when his fingers got tangled in cobwebs. He reached one of the other doors and opened it. Behind the door he found a hallway, dimly lit by the moonlight shining through the single window at the very end of it. The corridor was equally covered in cobwebs and there were no stairs to be seen, but surely if there was a hallway a staircase couldn't be too far away either. At the very least it was as good a place to start searching as any. Jaskier would simply try all the different doors until he found what he was looking for. And there, by the window, he could even make out a little lantern standing on the windowsill. A large candle protected by a casing of glass and metal with a ring mounted on top to hold it by. The floorboards creaked under his naked feet as he walked over to check it out. 

He peeked out of the window on his way over. The storm was still raging outside, pushing the smaller trees along the treeline swaying back and forth.

He also found a set of matches behind the lantern and thus managed to light it. The candlelight revealed even more cobwebs and dust and also the occasional crack in the paint on the walls. Now equipped with some light, Jaskier made his way over to the nearest door and looked into the room behind it. 


	2. Geralt: There's still time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Wednesday, time for chapter 2!  
> Have the same thing again, but from Geralt's POV :D
> 
> Next week there's gonna be some plot, I promise!

It had been storming all day. Geralt hated stormy weather. The pouring rain and the bursts of wind very effectively drowned out all sounds and smells that were further than a few feet away. Even his magically enhanced witcher senses were useless in this weather and so he had to concentrate extra hard so his eyes wouldn't miss any signs of danger. It was exhausting and annoying and his nerves were on edge. 

But as much as he hated this weather, it was far worse for the bard riding behind him. Jaskier was shivering perpetually, tiny tremors against Geralt's back to which Jaskier clung tightly. 

Geralt remembered passing a village on this road a few years back, but while he kept reassuring the bard that they would reach it soon he knew that it would still be at least another two hours or so. And that was provided Roach could keep this pace with the weight of both of them. Probably more like three hours. 

Jaskier tightened his grip around Geralt's chest and shivered harder. 

And on top of it all Geralt knew that Jaskier had barely slept the last two nights and was struggling to stay awake. His poor bard was miserable and there was nothing he could do to help. Geralt hated feeling helpless. He considered urging Roach on to run faster, but he knew that would only exhaust her and slow them down in the end. 

Geralt was focusing so hard on the road ahead to not miss any signs of danger in this bloody downpour that he nearly flinched when Jaskier suddenly started pounding on his shoulder. 

"Geralt!" Jaskier screamed painfully right into his ear, which was straining to catch any sounds through the howling wind and hadn't expected that much noise right next to it. "Geralt there's a HOUSE! Geralt? Geralt! Let's check it out, maybe we can stay the night there!" 

Great. The bard hat gotten ill in this godforsaken weather and now had hallucinations from fever. No sane person would build a house this far away from any civilization, and in the middle of a monster-infested forest on top of that. 

But Geralt also knew that Jaskier wouldn't stop screaming into his ear until he'd stop and humour him and so he pulled on the reins with a growl. 

Before Roach had even fully come to a halt, Jaskier had already slipped off her back and run off towards the treeline. 

"Jaskier wait!" he called after him, but the bard had already vanished between the trees. 

Geralt cursed. Why the hell did the bloody bard always have to be so damn impatient? 

Now he had to run after him and pick him up somewhere deep in the forest. And if Jaskier had been miserable before, he would then not only be drenched from above but also have to sit on Roaches now-wet back. Geralt cursed again before sliding out of the saddle as well and slowly followed the bard, his hood pulled deeply into his face to keep the rain out of his eyes. 

After a bit, the trees opened up into a clearing, in the middle of which, much to Geralt's surprise, indeed stood a house. It was a huge and ugly thing and it was clearly abandoned. Who would build such a monstrosity in the middle of nowhere? 

Under the wide porch roof stood Jaskier, bouncing back and forth on his feet, as he always did when he was excited or impatient, and shot a bright, beaming smile at Geralt. 

A familiar warm feeling spread through Geralt's guts at that sight. He joined the bard under the roof, Roach in tow. 

"Looks abandoned," Geralt remarked. 

"All the better! No one to kick us out!" Jaskier chirped happily and twirled around to open the front door. Which promptly tilted inward under Jaskier's touch and fell onto the wooden floor inside with a loud "thud". The hinges had rusted through. 

"Definitely abandoned!" Jaskier shrugged and stepped over the broken door, vanishing inside and out of Geralt's sight. 

The little hairs on Geralt's arms and neck stood up. He didn't like this. Something was wrong with this house. They shouldn't stay here. 

Still, they didn't really have much of another plan either. Geralt frowned at the thought of Jaskier having to ride through the storm again. 

He followed Jaskier inside, leading Roach behind him by the reins so that she could get out of the blasted weather as well. Roach pulled against the reins, her ears flat to her head. She could feel it too, he thought, that something was wrong here. He had to promise her not one, but two pieces of sugar in the village the next day before he could convince her to follow him inside. 

Geralt looked around. Several doors led deeper into the house and two flights of wide stairs curled upward towards a door that led to the second floor. 

A large chandelier covered in dust and cobwebs was lying in the middle of the room, a broad iron hook still attached to the roof above it where it had hung. Whoever had this place built had clearly been heavily compensating for something. 

"We shouldn't stay here. I don't like it," Geralt told Jaskier. 

“Ah come on, don't be like that!" Jaskier pouted. "Does that village of yours even exist or did you only make it up? This is the best thing we'll find to stay the night!" 

A wave of guilt washed over Geralt. The village did exist, but he might have made it seem like it was closer than it really was in an attempt to keep the bard's spirits up. Still. This house was weird. 

"A single house in the middle of the forest, far from any settlement and abandoned. It's probably full of monsters. Or doesn't this seem too good to be true to you?" 

"Psh, you're just paranoid," returned Jaskier. "Side effect of the job. If there's really any monsters here, you can just kill them and then we can finally go to bed!" 

Geralt opened his mouth to protest, but Jaskier kept talking over him. "Besides, one should never look a gift mouth in the…into the…" Jaskier frowned, before letting out a huge yawn. 

Geralt looked at the bard with worry. He was still drenched from head to toe and a small puddle was forming around his boots. The rings under his eyes were deep and dark and he gently swayed from side to side, as if he was on the brink of just falling over and falling asleep here and there. No. He couldn't make the poor lad ride any further tonight. 

Roach neighed. 

"Right. The horse. Thank you, Roach!" Jaskier finished his sentence clumsily. 

Geralt relaxed his shoulders. The bard might have a point. The fucking weather had put Geralt on edge. Maybe he was worried over nothing. Maybe Roach was only reacting to his own nervous behaviour. 

"You're probably right," Geralt sighed, giving in to the bard's hopeful look. "Fine. The stairs look stable enough and with the broken door it's probably warmer upstairs. See if you can find us a good spot for the night, while I get the saddle off Roach." 

Jaskier beamed at him and hurried up the stairs. 

Worry twisted into a knot in Geralt's guts. Even if nothing weird was going on, an abandoned place like this might still have attracted some monsters with the promise of a good spot to build their nests. 

"Just scream if there's any monsters," Geralt yelled after him, not knowing what else to do, since Jaskier was already halfway up the stairs and it didn't seem like anything could stop him anymore. Jaskier didn't even react and vanished through the upstairs door. Geralt held his breath. No screaming. Geralt slowly counted to ten. Still nothing. He let out his breath and forced himself to calm down. 

H e went over to Roach and collected their various bags and belongings from her saddle over his shoulders, before taking the saddle off. Roach huffed in relief. 

For lack of any other place to put up the saddle for drying, he hung it over the stair railing and proceeded the same way with the reins. 

"Be good. I'll see you in the morning," he told Roach. 

Roach snorted in protest. She was always good, and they both knew it. Geralt smiled and placed a kiss on her forehead before hurrying up the stairs after Jaskier. 

Behind the upstairs door was a library. The various books that lined the shelves were rotting away, but Geralt still could make out some of the titles written in Elder. He had seen some of them in Yennefer's collection as well. 

That helped to calm his nerves somewhat. No one sane would build a house like this in the middle of nowhere, but mages were rarely particularly sane. Maybe he really was only paranoid. 

Jaskier wasn't in the room, but he had left one of the doors open for Geralt to follow through. 

He found Jaskier in the next room, frowning at a large bed. The knot in Geralt's stomach tightened. He knew what the problem was. 

They had slept next to each other a couple of nights now, whenever the situation called for it. And Geralt loved nothing more than to fall asleep next to Jaskier, or even cuddled together for warmth, the scent of pinewood and lavender soap and warm bread in his nose. Geralt rarely slept deeper or calmer than on those nights. He only had to take care to wake up before Jaskier and sneak off into the washing room or to the nearest stream to take care of certain… body functions that would always make themselves noticeable when he was that close to the bard. 

The reason for that was that he was deeply in love with Jaskier. It had happened slowly and gradually, unnoticed really, but inevitably the bard had grown on him. He made Geralt feel strangely safe, which was ridiculous of course, because most of the time it was Geralt protecting Jaskier from something rather than the other way around. And yet. 

Maybe it was the way Jaskier seemed to never be afraid of him, no matter how intimidating Geralt tried to be. He made Geralt feel more human and strangely vulnerable. And at the same time save. It really didn't make any sense. And yet. 

Jaskier on the other hand had no such feelings for him. He wasn’t attracted to Geralt in the slightest. Geralt had carefully tested that. He had made a point of strolling out of the washing room with his chest bare after bathing and once or twice had even purposefully left the towel that he usually wrapped around his waist behind. But whenever Jaskier wasn't busy helping Geralt wash monster guts out of his hair he would make a definitive point of looking the other direction when Geralt showed any kind of exposed skin. Geralt knew that Jaskier was interested in men in general, he had seen Jaskier emerge out of a man's bedroom in the morning once or twice, but he could hardly blame the bard for not being interested in Geralt in particular, with his coarse skin that was more scar tissue than anything else and with how hideous Geralt's face was. 

And so Geralt couldn't ever let the bard know what he felt for him. He wouldn't risk their friendship over it. Most of the time he even denied being friends in the first place, just to be sure that Jaskier wouldn’t catch on.

And Jaskier wasn't only not attracted to him, he also hated sleeping next to him. He would always toss and turn and roll around all night and not fall asleep for ages. And then come the next morning he'd be tired and grumpy all day. And that's why Geralt didn't push for them to sleep in the same bed more often, because he didn't want to unnecessarily inconvenience the bard. But, every once in a while, an opportunity presented itself where it was simply more practical to sleep next to one another, even without Geralt making up excuses. Such as the last two nights when it had been too cold outside for Jaskier to sleep on the ground by himself and they had slept under one blanket so that Geralt could warm him. But again Jaskier had barely been able to get any sleep at all. He had already struggled to stay on his feet today. Another night of next to no sleep wouldn't be good for the bard. 

Jaskier flinched as he approached and politely tried to smile at the witcher to hide his resentment but it turned out more like a pained grimace than a smile. Geralt looked back and forth between Jaskier and the bed, trying to find a good and unsuspicious excuse to offer to sleep on the floor instead. It saddened him immensely to pass up the opportunity, but Jaskier needed the sleep. 

“Hmm. It might not hold the weight of both of us anymore. I can sleep on the floor if you want,” he finally came up with. 

Guilt washed over Jaskier's features. "Don’t be ridiculous. The bed is perfectly fine and we shouldn’t waste it. Come on.”

Sometimes the bloody bard was too considerate for his own good. But Geralt couldn't come up with any other excuse and he certainly wasn't ready to just point out the problem and have a conversation where Jaskier had to explain just why exactly he was so repulsed by Geralt that he couldn't even tolerate being close to him.

And so he just watched quietly as Jaskier strolled over and fished his bedroll from the bags over Geralt’s shoulder and spread it out on one side of the bed. Maybe he could just let the bard sleep in tomorrow, now that they didn't have to hurry to reach the village anymore. 

But then it became clear that Jaskier intended to crawl under the blankets as he was, still dripping on the floor. Geralt held him back by the elbow. That was insane, he would definitely get sick that way. Humans were so fragile. 

“What are you doing? You need to get out of those wet clothes first if you want to ever get warm tonight.”

Jaskier blushed. “I don’t have any dry clothes left though!” he exclaimed. 

Geralt ignored the short stab of pain in his stomach at the revelation how much Jaskier hated the idea of being naked around him and instead started rummaging in his bag for one of his own clean shirts. He tossed it to Jaskier, maybe a little more forceful than would have been necessary, but Jaskier still managed to catch it out of the air. 

Jaskier turned even redder and just stared at the shirt in disbelief. 

Geralt sighed again. “I’ll be next door, so you can change," he said, and left the room to change into a dry, comfortable pair of pants to sleep in. He waited a bit to give Jaskier enough time to change and then returned to the bedroom. Jaskier was already curled up in bed and pretended to be asleep. The effort was undermined by how much he was still shivering and how tightly his eyes were squeezed shut.

Geralt frowned (yes, frowned, he was definitely not pouting). He would have loved to see Jaskier in his shirt. He spread his bedroll on the other side of the bed and climbed in next to Jaskier. The beloved smell of the bard hitting his nostrils made his vexation vanish. Maybe he'd manage to catch a short glimpse at Jaskier tomorrow, before he'd change back into his own clothes. 

Geralt fell asleep quickly and peacefully, as always when next to the bard. He dreamt about what it must be like to see Jaskier in his shirt, see him naked, to kiss those beautiful pink lips. 

Suddenly he was awoken by Jaskier shaking his shoulder. Geralt woke up, realising he was hard. He blushed. Luckily it was the middle of the night, with barely any moonlight shining through the windows, and Jaskier could probably see neither of those things in the dark with his human eyes. 

"Geralt! Geralt!" Jaskier hissed. "There's someone there!" 

Kikimora guts, Geralt thought. Cold rain hitting his neck. One of Vesemir's endless lectures when he had fucked up during training. 

Then the meaning behind Jaskier's words registered with him. 

"What? What's up?" he looked around, rubbing his eyes. The room was empty. The rest of the house lay quiet as well. All he could hear was the noise of the storm raging outside. 

"I hear nothing. Are you sure?" 

"Yes, I heard several people shouting! They're in the house somewhere. We should check it out!" 

Jaskier climbed out of the bed. Geralt's shirt was only hanging over one of his shoulders, exposing the other one and part of Jaskier’s chest. The hem barely reached the middle of Jaskier’s thighs and a little bit of his underpants peeked out from underneath it. Jaskier looked a little lost and incredibly adorable in the way-too-big shirt. The sight did something funny to Geralt's guts. 

Still, the situation was annoying. Since he could only observe Jaskier from afar, Geralt just wanted to get back to his dream. He tried to reason with Jaskier. 

"I don't know Jaskier, you probably just had a bad dream. Don't you think if there'd been voices, they would've woken me too? My ears are better than yours after all. Witcher senses and all that." 

Jaskier frowned. 

"Fine. Don't believe me then. I'll check it out anyway," he pouted 

"Right. You do that then," Geralt said dryly and turned his back to Jaskier. If the bard was that desperate to get away from Geralt, that was on him. Geralt had offered to sleep on the floor already, he would not give up the bed anymore. Not now, when it was drenched in Jaskier’s scent. 

"Geralt!" Jaskier's pleading voice came from behind him. 

"What?" Geralt mumbled into his pillow. Dream Jaskier would still be waiting for him if he managed to fall back asleep quickly. 

"What if it's bandits?" Jaskier whined. Geralt tensed up with guilt. Did Jaskier want him to follow? Maybe this wasn't a ploy to get some distance between them after all… 

"Right," he said and climbed out of bed. 

"Let me just get my swords." He kneeled down beside the pile of their things and started untangling the straps of the sword sheaths from his armor and the straps of their bags. 

Behind him, Jaskier tiptoed towards one of the other doors, impatient as always. 

Their stuff was incredibly entangled. Why had he not taken better care where he dumped everything? He'd been too distracted from worrying about the bard. 

Suddenly, there was a loud bang behind him. Geralt flinched and spun around, drawing his steel sword. His nerves were probably still a bit strained. Jaskier had simply thrown the door shut behind him. "Jaskier?" he shouted uncertainly. No answer. 

He walked to the door and tried to open it. The small room behind it was empty except for the cobwebs covering the ceiling and the walls. No Jaskier. 

"Damnit, Jaskier, I said just let me get my swords!" he shouted. "Why do you always have to be so impatient?" Only silence answered.

This time Jaskier hadn’t even left the door he used open behind him. 

“I’m not playing hide and seek with you!” Geralt growled, more to himself than to Jaskier, who probably couldn't hear him anymore. 

Geralt opened both doors leading out of the room. Still no Jaskier behind either of them. This was getting very frustrating very fast. Maybe he should just turn around and go back to bed. (Dream Jaskier would never do something like this to him.) 

Suddenly he heard Jaskier’s muffled voice shouting out his name from somewhere behind him. He spun around. What the? How had Jaskier gotten behind the door on the other side of the bedroom so quickly? 

Then Geralt realized how scared and panicked the voice had sounded. Geralt's guts twisted into a knot again as he sprinted across the two rooms, his sword still ready in his hand. He threw the other door open so harshly it nearly fell out of its hinges. Behind the door he finally found Jaskier. But the state Jaskier was in made the knot in Geralt's stomach twist even tighter and the room in front of his eyes spin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in again next week to find out what Jaskier found behind that door at the end of chapter one!  
> Cliffhangers? In my fic? It's more likely than you think!


	3. Jaskier: All Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, there's actual stuff happening in this chapter and Jaskier is having a progressively worse time

Jaskier opened the first door in the hallway and peeked inside. The room was dominated by a huge altar made of stone which filled out the entire opposite wall. Other than that, the room was empty, except of course for the seemingly ever-present dust covered cobwebs. Curious, he walked closer. 

Halfway across the room one of the windows to his left suddenly burst open with a crash. Jaskier shrieked and jumped to the side. This house was really trying to put him on edge!

Immediately the storm outside tried to push its way into the room. The wind tugged on Jaskier's hair and played with the hem of Geralt's shirt and a pool of water was starting to form by the windowsill. Jaskier wrapped his free arm around his waist and shivered. This really wasn't a good outfit for exploring a creepy old house with bad insulation and ramshackle windows. 

But his curiosity was piqued and he still hurried over to inspect the altar. The old floor creaked under his steps. 

The altar was covered in bundles of dried flowers and leaves that immediately crumbled to dust under his fingers when he touched them. Who knew how long they had been lying there?

In the center of the altar was a little painted clay statue of Melitele. Something seemed off about it, though. Jaskier put the lantern down on the altar and picked up the statue to inspect it closer. It looked just like the depictions of Melitele in any old temple, with the three different women standing back to back to form a circle, except some of the details were slightly amiss. 

The maiden depiction had elf ears. Huh. Odd. 

Jaskier turned the statue in his hands to look at the next aspect. The crone had sharp canine teeth growing out of her mouth, turning the usual expression of grandmotherly wisdom into an animalistic snarl. Ugh. Creepy. 

He turned the statue again. The mother aspect was shaped as usual, a grown-up woman holding her hands over her pregnant belly. But the lower part of her white dress and the floor to her feet were painted in blood red. Wow. Gross.

Also, the statue was broken. There was a hole with sharp edges in the middle of the mother's round abdomen, revealing the hollow inside of the statue.

Huh. Was there...? Jaskier tilted the statue a little. Yeah, there was something stuck inside of it. Curious, he tried to fish it out by sticking two fingers into the hole. That felt slightly weird and wrong, even though Jaskier wasn't particularly religious. But sticking his fingers into the stomach of a depiction of a pregnant woman with blood painted all over her legs felt… weirdly violating. Still, his curiosity got the better of him. 

He managed to wriggle the small object free from the statue and looked at it. And then yelped and immediately dropped it, jumping a few inches backwards. What. The fuck?! It was a cut off, mummified finger. And judging by how tiny it was, it must have once belonged to a newborn. 

Then Jaskier jumped again and dropped the Melitele statue as he felt something tickle at the base of his skull.

The statue broke into pieces on the floor. 

Jaskier smacked his hand against his neck. Of course a fucking spider had to fall on him in this stupid house. As if it wasn't creepy enough already. 

But when he brought his hand back in front of him to look down at it there was no smashed spider on it. Instead, his hand was covered in blood. What the? When had he gotten hurt? 

Another drop of blood fell on his hand. 

He moved his other hand to his suddenly itching nose and removed it just as bloody. Crap, when did he get a nosebleed? 

Jaskier tilted his head back in an effort to stop the bleeding, his blood covered hands still stretched out in front of him. He raised his arm to swipe over his face with his sleeve. Then he remembered that he was wearing Geralt's shirt and stopped his arm inches from his face. 

Oh, what the hell, he was angry at the witcher right now anyway. And the shirt probably had countless washed in bloodstains already, knowing Geralt. They just weren't visible on the dark fabric. He carefully swiped over his face with the edge of the sleeve. 

Maybe that's why Geralt wore so much black, he thought. 

To further prove his point of being pissed at the witcher over being locked out he cleaned his hands on the bottom hem of the shirt before carefully touching the area around his nose. This time they came back with only the leftover smudges that the shirt hadn't removed. The nosebleed had stopped again. 

Jaskier had enough of this creepy room. He grabbed the lantern, turned around, and followed his footsteps on the dusty floor back to the door. 

He returned to the hallway and determinedly opened the opposite door. Behind it was… still no staircase. He pouted. Instead, he found himself in a dressing chamber. Several large, heavy wardrobes lined the walls. 

Jaskier couldn't resist. He had to check it out. Clothes tell you a lot about a person after all, and he was curious to learn more about the kind of person that would build such a beautiful house in the middle of a forest only to have that nightmare-chapel-room in it. 

He carefully placed the lantern on the floor and strolled over to the first wardrobe, trying for fun not to make the floor creak this time but failing at it. 

He opened the wardrobe, which made a wave of dust rise into the air, giving Jaskier a coughing fit. 

When the worst of the dust and the coughing had settled again, he inspected the contents of the dresser. 

On an iron pole hung the remains of a dozen or so beautiful dresses. There was silk and velvet and lace. So much lace. Jaskier nodded to the dresses in silent approval of their owner’s taste. Of course the dresses were now torn and tattered and partially rotten away, but one could still tell how beautiful they must have looked once. Yennefer, for example, would have been absolutely breathtaking in them. 

Huh.

Maybe that was the explanation. Maybe a mage had lived here and that’s why everything was so tasteful and then the fucked up altar room. Mages did weird shit like that. That thought actually helped calm his nerves. 

Jaskier picked out one of the dresses, a dream of blue silk only barely still held together by the myriads of golden embroidery all over it. 

Jaskier held the dress against his chest and spun around a few times. In doing so, he spotted a large standing mirror behind the open door he’d come in through which he’d missed before. Jaskier carefully put the dress back on the holder and went over to the mirror. 

It didn’t reflect because it was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. Jaskier looked around the room and opened a few more wardrobe doors before he found a dress that was so ragged and destroyed, one couldn’t even make out the former cut and colour anymore. He used it as a rag to clean the mirror off with and then looked at his reflection. 

The huge black shirt did a poor job of covering him. The wide neckline left one of his shoulders and part of his chest exposed. The shirt ended only halfway down his thighs. Jaskier decided he looked like an absolute snack in it. If only his stupid witcher could feel the same way. 

Jaskier leaned forward and checked out his face. There was no blood on it anymore, not even any dried-up rest. Good. At least he wouldn’t look like a blood-covered maniac when he found his way back to Geralt or ran into the other people in the house. 

As if on cue, he could suddenly hear the voices again. He flinched, startled out of his self-observation. Several people were shouting over one another, but it was impossible to tell if they were angry or celebrating or just communicating loudly. Neither could he make out where the sounds were coming from. They could have been right next door or on the other end of the house. Jaskier couldn’t tell, no matter how hard he strained his ears. 

He scurried back to retrieve his lantern and then carefully and quietly opened the door to the hallway again. The voices fell silent once more and the hallway still lay empty and abandoned (and stairless) before him. 

He waited a few moments, but when it remained silent, he sneaked on to the next door further down the hallway. Jaskier listened intently, but all he could hear was the ever-present creaking of the floor beneath him. He carefully opened the door and peeked in. Still no people. Still no stairs. 

The room was filled out almost entirely by a large table, which left only a small walkway between it and the various shelves lining the wall. There was a little more space on the opposite side of the room, between the table and the wall, leaving some space in front of a large hearth. A brass cauldron was hanging in the cold fire place by an iron hook. Definitely a witch’s house, Jaskier thought.

Once again curious, he snuck inside, closing the door quietly behind him, and looked around. 

The table was marked by countless spots, knife marks, burns, and candle wax. It had been used often. 

Various alchemical tools like vials and retorts, a mortar and pestle, and a flint stone were strewn across, dried up herbs and pastes still clinging to the instruments. The shelves were filled to the brim with all sorts of...creepy shit. He strolled around the room, looking at the various glasses, boxes and baubles stored there, making sure not to touch anything. A recently-hatched Kikimora floating in some sickly-green liquid next to what looked suspiciously like a cut-off elf ear and a Bloedzuiger tentacle preserved in the same way. Several vials with powders in various bright, glowing colours. A raven feather, grey with dust. A compass that unerringly pointed directly at Jaskier, following him as he moved back and forth in front of it. A knife, the handle made of simple bone, but the blade shimmering in various colours, depending on how the light from his candle fell on it. A rune carved out of a black crystal. Huh, wasn’t that the symbol for one of Geralt’s spells? Quen or something, Jaskier thought. 

Right, Geralt. He still was on a mission to give the witcher the scolding of his lifetime, after all. He hurried back out and turned to the last remaining door at the very end of the hallway. Behind it he found another short piece of corridor and then, at the end of that, finally, the staircase. 

Jaskier made his way downstairs, the stairs creaking even bloody louder than the floor above. 

Halfway down, he flinched as the voices suddenly returned,shouting over one another. And then something about the voices shifted, the shouting turning into near inhuman-sounding shrieks of pain and terror. Jaskier froze on the spot, his eyes wide with fear. He could now make out behind which door downstairs the voices were coming from. Whatever was going on behind that door, Jaskier definitely did not want to be involved in it, judging by the sheer horror the voices now communicated. 

Jaskier went back up one step and then froze in place. He really should run away as fast and quietly as possible. But then again, could he really just turn around and leave those people behind with… whatever was behind that door?

"Fuck," he mumbled before hurrying down the stairs and to the door of doom. 

Jaskier hesitated another moment in front of the door and then opened it very, very slowly and carefully. He peeked inside through the slit, bracing himself for whatever nightmare he would be greeted with. 

The room was empty and the screams of terror abruptly cut off, silence heavily bearing down on him. 

"What the fuck?" Jaskier said loudly and took a few steps inside, looking around in bewilderment. 

He'd found the kitchen, with a large hearth on one wall, several cupboards and cabinets lining the other walls, except for the two doors leading out of the room. In the middle stood a large table, to prepare food on, not unlike the one in the alchemy room. But that was it, just an ordinary, dust-covered, empty kitchen. 

Suddenly, one of the cabinet doors behind him flew open with a loud crash. Jaskier yelped and swirled around, the lantern casting moving shadows onto the walls as it shook back and forth in his hand. 

But before he could decide if he should step closer to inspect it or turn around on his heels and make a run for it, another cabinet flew open behind him. Then, without warning, there was a sharp pain to the back of his head, as if someone had hit a blunt object against it, but there had been no impact at all. 

Suddenly, there was a dull pain in his stomach, that forced the air out of his lungs and sent him tumbling down to his knees. Instinctively, he dropped the lantern and curled together into a ball to protect his vital areas. But it was no use. More and more pain washed over his body, a sting in his side, a throbbing in his shoulder, another explosion of pain in his stomach. More and more spots on his body joined in on the cacophony of aching. There was a disgusting, stomach-twisting "crack" sound as his nose broke. And all along the kitchen around him lay dark and eerily quiet, the only sounds his own gasps and sobs and screams.

After that, there were no more new pains for a few moments, before suddenly a drawer crashed open again. Jaskier yelped in terror, somehow knowing that this meant it would still be getting worse. 

Another sharp pain in his stomach, but oh so much fucking worse this time, the pain radiating into every inch of his body, filling him with indescribable agony. 

_I have to get out of here_

Jaskier scrambled to his feet and staggered towards the door in front of him, opposite of where he came in. The rest of the room blurred around the edges of his vision until only the door was clear anymore. He dragged himself forward, one step, two steps, his hands pressed onto the searing pain in his belly, and the door was almost in reach, but then another stab of pain in the back of his thigh, not nearly as all-consuming as the pain in his guts but still it sent him crashing to the floor. 

_Out of here. Need to get out of here_

Jaskier crawled the rest of the way to the door, one arm still wrapped around his belly the other heaving him forward inch by inch, his teeth clenched to fight down the pain. 

_Just away from here_

He reached the door, grabbed the handle and hung onto it with his entire weight, and the door swung open, dragging him with it into the room a few inches. He crawled on for another few feet before he collapsed to the floor, gasping in pain. 

_Maybe it was over_

He took a few deep breaths through gritted teeth before pushing himself into a sitting position, which sent new waves of pain through his body from the _stab wound_ in his belly. 

Jaskier looked around. He was in a large room, a door to his left and a door to his right, and the still open kitchen door behind him, but the rest of the walls were covered in large mirrors. Or well, some of them had cracked and some had fallen down, but still, his own reflection stared back at him wherever he looked. He was pale, horror and pain were written onto his face and he was covered in blood from head to toe, dripping from his broken nose and his split lip and with bruises forming on every visible inch of his body. 

And then there was the blood on his reflection's stomach, so fucking much of it, spluttering out in waves from between his fingers that were tightly pressed to his belly and forming a puddle on the floor around him. Jaskier winced and looked down at his own body, and of course it matched his reflection and there was blood everywhere. On his hands, on the floor, all he could see was red. Tears streamed down his cheeks and mixed with the pool of blood. He couldn't make any sense of what was happening, couldn't even try to think about it, because all that was in his head was agony. 

The door to his right crashed open, revealing the entry hall. And then… Jaskier gasped, trying to get air into his blemished body and trying not to faint. 

And then Geralt stepped into the doorframe and hope and relief washed through his chest, Geralt had found him and whatever the fuck was going on here, Geralt would make it stop, would save him. "Geralt!" he called out, and then curled in on himself as new waves of pain washed over him. And Geralt would rush over to him, would hold him, would tell him that he would be alright, that Geralt would slay the monster and get him to a healer, just as he had done every single time Jaskier had gotten himself in trouble. 

But nothing happened. Jaskier opened his eyes, one at a time. Geralt was still standing in the doorframe, his sword in his hand and the other hand clutching the door frame so hard that his knuckles were white. And he just looked at Jaskier, not moving an inch. 

Geralt's gaze was fixated on him, the moonlight slightly reflecting in his beautiful, golden eyes, but his expression was hard and full of hatred and disgust. He looked at Jaskier just the way he always looked at a particularly cruel monster moments before he would run it through with his sword. Something in Jaskier's chest tightened as he gasped in shock. 

"Geralt please, do something, save me! Please!" he cried, not able to move, only searing pain in his mind. 

Geralt gritted his teeth and lifted his chin slightly, as if he was inspecting a particular nasty piece of dirt on his boots. And still he didn't move. Only kept staring at Jaskier with that horrible grimace of loathing. 

"Geralt, please it hurts!" he pleaded. "Geralt, I'm dying!" 

And he was. Dying, that is. He suddenly knew that like a fact, like he knew that the sky was blue and that Geralt's eyes were golden and beautiful. And oh so cold and cruel right now. 

"Fuck off already!" Geralt yelled. "I won't come for you another time," he growled at Jaskier. Jaskier gasped in horror and then again in pain from the movement and stared at Geralt in disbelief, his mouth open in shock. 

Something grabbed Jaskier's ankle and dragged him across the floor and Jaskier tried to jerk his head around to see what was happening, but there was no one there behind him, only his own reflection in the mirrors but still he was dragged across the room mercilessly. He screamed, as the door behind him swung open and he was dragged through it. Desperately, he clasped his hands around the doorframe on either side, trying to hold on and to not be dragged away. 

"Geralt!" he tried one more time. But Geralt still didn't move. Only then did it fully hit him, that Geralt wouldn't move, wouldn't save him this time, and he would die here. Geralt just stood there and watched as he was dragged away, leaving a broad, bloody trail on the floor. He could almost hear the crack as his heart shattered in his chest. He let go of the door, his arms suddenly going limp and he was dragged away from Geralt, who vanished out of sight. 

He was dragged further for a while, screaming out in pain and despair, when suddenly, the floor vanished underneath him. His heart skipped a beat, before he realized that he was dragged down another staircase into the basement and then -

_Betrayed_

That was the last thing he could think before his head hit one of the stairs. He welcomed the darkness that engulfed him as he was knocked out from the impact. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tune in next week to find out what Geralt's been up to in the meantime!


	4. Geralt: There's still time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're ready for more of "Geralt is an idiot"!  
> Have fun!
> 
> Oh yeah, also my friend Sora drew [art](https://thesewersofparis.tumblr.com/post/616479237388550144/a-little-doodle-after-i-proofread-my-friends) of Jaskier calling out to Geralt, so go check that out!!!

The bard was lying on the floor in front of him, unmoving, unconscious, and someone had beaten the living shit out of him. His nose was broken, bruises all over his body and the hair on the back of his head was a bloody, crusted mess from where a blunt object had hit him. 

But the worst was the stab wound in his gut, Jaskier's arms still loosely wrapped around it to stop the bleeding. The pool of blood that soaked Geralt's shirt on Jaskier's slim shoulders and gathered underneath the bard was alarmingly large. Matter-of-life-and-death large. 

Geralt closed the last few steps of distance between them and fell to his knees next to Jaskier. He dropped his sword and frantically pressed one hand to Jaskier's stomach to stop the bleeding and the other on his chest to check if his heart was even still beating anymore. Fuck. Whoever did this had better pray that Jaskier survived or they'd wish that they had never been born when Geralt was done with them. 

He hissed in surprise as his hands painfully collided with the hard wooden floor rather than the soft flesh he had expected. Jaskier in front of him turned into swirls of thick, black air which drifted away through the gaps between the floorboards. What the fuck?

It took a few moments before his brain caught up with what had just happened. He leaned back on his heels and brushed his hand over his face. He was surprised when it came back with tears. His heart was beating painfully in his uncomfortably too-tight chest. 

Not good. Whatever magic had created that image of Jaskier had clearly reached deep into his mind if it could create an illusion of Geralt's worst fear so easily. What- or whoever did this, he had to kill it quickly. And also, nothing had made him cry in literal decades and fuck whoever was responsible for this. 

Besides, Jaskier was around here somewhere, all on his own and without Geralt to protect him. 

"Fuck," he muttered, anger searing through him and replacing the fear that had been there a moment before. Good. Anger was easier to handle. 

He scrambled to his feet and picked up his sword. 

"Show yourself! Come and fight me directly, you coward!" he screamed, waving his sword around aimlessly, cutting the air around him. The house lay eerily quiet. 

Geralt huffed in frustration.

Right then. Priorities. 

First, he had to find the bard, who was around here somewhere, alone and defenseless. He looked around. The door opposite him was open, showing a long corridor. And then he suddenly spotted a blur of turquoise fabric, just vanishing around the corner at the end of the hallway. 

"Jaskier, wait!" he yelled, but the bard was already out of sight. 

And some part of his brain whispered that it was probably just another illusion, that Jaskier would be wearing Geralt's black shirt and not the turquoise jacket he had been wearing yesterday, but his heart was still pounding heavily in his chest and he just couldn't help but scramble after the bard. 

He darted around the corner and again, he could just see Jaskier vanish through one of the doors, which closed behind him. Geralt cursed and made for the door, behind which, again, Jaskier just vanished out of sight and then again behind the next door. When his shell-shocked brain finally caught up with the fact that he was chasing illusions he came to a halt and propped his left, sword-free hand on his knee, gasping for air, still more from shock than from actual physical exhaustion. 

He looked up. Great. He was back in the library, had stumbled into it from a different door this time. The illusion had him running around in circles. He'd have to find the one casting this magic fast now, before Jaskier could run into them and find out that he had been fooled by such a simple trick. He wouldn't ever live it down. Geralt growled. 

And then, Geralt couldn't even tell what it was, something caught his attention about the book propped up on the lectern in the middle of the room. He walked over and started reading the spell described on the opened page. Better than running in circles.

The spell was complicated and several pages long and he had to read to the very end of the section before he understood its function. When he did, his face darkened. The spell was designed to bring a recently passed soul back to life. Someone had messed around with magic that was far too dark and powerful for them, for any mage really. The result, Geralt concluded from his observations, the result was the creation of a haunting. 

Fuck. 

Hauntings were the worst. 

A haunting happened when one or more souls got stuck somewhere between this world and whatever the fuck might be coming after death, reliving the last few moments of their lifes and then the death itself over and over again, he recalled from his studies. The pent-up magical energy from all the fear and pain created that way could cause any number of magical effects in the surrounding area. But it was always something extremely fucked up, powerful and very dangerous. Geralt would have to be careful not to get affected himself. 

And caught in the middle of that was Jaskier. Fuck. He'd have to find him first before he could go about performing the long and complicated ritual to disperse the haunting. Which was annoying. Jaskier was somewhere in this house, experiencing… what exactly? What had the image of a dying Jaskier stood for? His worst fear? That was a bit generic, Geralt had read about far more creative hauntings. Very effective though, evidently. 

At least this was a mage's house, so with some luck he'd find all the ingredients for the counterspell right here. He hated that kind of work and much preferred it when he could face his problems by simply sticking a sword in it. 

The staircase in the entry hall creaked loudly. Geralt looked at the closed door behind him. All the illusions had been silent so far, so, with a little luck, this was the real Jaskier this time. He opened the door, sword still in hand, and walked onto the little balcony between where the pair of staircases curled downward. He sucked in the air sharply. On the floor below lay Jaskier again, just like before, in a pool of his own blood. 

And Geralt knew that it was only an illusion, that it wasn't real. But then the image twitched slightly and moaned in pain. And it was wearing Geralt's shirt, different from the illusions he had chased around and ‘What if!’ his brain screamed and he couldn't help himself. He didn't even bother with the stairs, just jumped over the railing in front of him, landing right next to Jaskier. But again the image vanished into thin air as soon as he touched it, black smoke drifting through his fingers. In the corner of the room, Roach snorted. At least she was alright and seemingly unaffected by the haunting. 

"Yeah, you're right, I am an idiot," he told his horse, before going over to her and scratching her between the ears, a sad smile on his face. His heart was once again pounding heavily in his chest. "Do me a favor and don't tell Jaskier, ok?"

They both flinched as one of the doors behind them crashed open. Roach nervously backed further into the corner. She could still sense the magical energies going haywire around her, even though she wasn't directly affected. 

"I'll go check it out," he assured her and stalked closer to the open door.

And of course there was another illusion there. The image of Jaskier was conscious this time and sitting upright in the middle of the room, his arms wrapped around his stomach, sobbing quietly. And then it looked up at Geralt, fear in its eyes turning into hope as it noticed him. Geralt grabbed the door frame with his free hand to hold himself back. He would not fall for the same lousy trick again. He would not have his heart nearly jump out of his chest with fear a third time. 

"Geralt!" the illusion called out, before curling in on itself and wincing in pain. And he knew that it was just an illusion, but the thought of Jaskier actually being in that much pain still made his guts curl into a tight knot. 

The illusion looked up and stared at Geralt expectantly with Jaskier's large blue eyes. He tightened his hand around the doorframe in anger, waiting for the illusion to disperse, but it was stubborn.

"Geralt please, do something, save me! Please!" it cried with false fear in its voice. Geralt gritted his teeth and reminded himself once more that this wasn't real, that it was just a fragment ripped from his own mind to torture him. 

"Geralt, please it hurts!" it tried again. "Geralt, I'm dying!" 

The illusion was clearly not giving up if he just ignored it. 

"Fuck off already!" Geralt screamed at it, filtering all the fear and worry over Jaskier into hatred in his voice. "I won't come for you another time," he growled. 

The illusion mocked him once more by gasping in horror and looked at him, its mouth open in surprise. 

And then, finally it went away. Well it didn't disperse this time, instead something invisible grabbed the illusion's ankle and dragged it across the floor. Jaskier would have been impressed by the theatrics, he thought. The door opposite Geralt swung open and the illusion was dragged through it, screaming. 

It fumbled to hold on to the doorframe. 

"Geralt!" it screamed once more. And then, as Geralt still didn't move, it finally vanished around the corner and Geralt was alone with his thoughts, breathing heavily as if his restraint had physically exhausted him. He forced his breathing to calm down. 

Right. He needed a plan to find the real Jaskier. 

The illusions were clearly trying to guide him to a specific place, had been doing so all along. That wasn't unusual for a haunting, to direct the people caught in it closer to the very center of the magical ripple. 

It would probably try the same with Jaskier. 

So, he should probably follow the illusions in order to find the real bard. Great. 

The illusion had left a very dramatic smear of blood behind. Geralt braced himself and followed the trail, clutching his sword tighter in his hand. 

The trail led through a few more rooms and then down a staircase into the basement. Of course. 

He followed the blood down the stairs, which creaked under each of his steps. 

The staircase ended in front of a single door fitted into the natural stone walls the basement was carved out of. He walked through the door and found himself at the heart of the haunting. 

The room that spread in front of him was a small natural cave. Countless candles were placed all over it, on the ground and the stalagmites that grew from the floor. 

The candles weren't lit, but the fluorescent moss that covered the walls bathed the room in enough light that his eyes could still see as if in daylight. The floor curved slightly downwards towards the middle of the room, where two large, square slabs of granite had been placed as altars. On one of them were two candelabras with thirteen candles each, a bowl, and a rusty knife. The other one was lower, more like a bench than a table, and it and the floor around it were covered all over in various runes and inscriptions. Geralt breathed in, flaring his nose. They were drawn in blood, he realized, albeit old and dried up blood. Not as overwhelming as the smell of the blood from the illusion, which filled the back of his throat with the taste of iron. He continued to breathe through his mouth instead.

This was clearly the place where the damning spell that had created the haunting had been cast, and yet the stream of blood continued, curved around the altars and vanished under an iron door in the back of the cave which blocked off a passage leading even further down below the earth. Curious. Maybe he'd find Jaskier there. He followed the trail. 

The thick hinges of the iron door had been hammered directly into the stone and it didn't quite cover all of the irregularly shaped opening of the passage, leaving some small gaps at the top. A massive locking mechanism was also drilled into the door and the stone, but the door was currently unlocked. 

He had to use quite a bit of strength to open it and it immediately and loudly fell shut behind him again, pushed closed by its own weight. He doubted he would find Jaskier in here. He wasn’t even sure if the bard would be able to open the heavy door. 

It was dark on the other side and even his mutated eyes had trouble picking out anything from the small amount of light that fell in through the gaps above the door from the other room. He waited a few moments until his pupils had dilated as far as possible and cursed himself that he had acted so frantically back upstairs in the bedroom and had left the bag with his potions behind, one of which would have enabled him to see well even in this light. 

At least he could make out general shapes now. He found himself in a dungeon. Three cells with iron bars were built into the stone and chains and hooks lined the walls. Great. How homely. 

Something lay on the floor of one of the cells. Geralt pressed his lips together tightly. It would most definitely be another illusion of Jaskier. He sighed. He would simply dissolve it by touching the image. At least he wouldn't see the gory details this time. 

The cell door was locked and so he reached through the bars and grabbed the hunched figure by the shoulder. 

And this time he grabbed flesh rather than thin air. His heart skipped a beat before pounding twice as fast in his chest. He pulled the figure closer to the bars and wrapped his arms around their torso. The smell hit his nose hard, pinewood, lavender, warm bread. And blood, so much blood. It was definitely Jaskier. The real Jaskier. Geralt's hands were immediately wet with blood. Panicked, he moved his hands higher, onto Jaskier's chest, essentially hugging the lifeless bard through the bars. There was no heartbeat. 

"No!" he huffed. It couldn't be. He frantically moved his hands up and down Jaskier's chest, as if he could find a heartbeat when he just searched long enough. But there was none. He was hugging a dead body. Jaskier was dead. 

_ It's my fault  _

Jaskier was dead and it was his fault. 

He had failed the bard. Hadn't protected him. He was dead and it was all his fault. Tears shot into Geralt's eyes and mixed with the blood that seemed to be everywhere. 

_ I arrived too late  _

If only he had found Jaskier earlier, hadn't wasted time chasing around illusions. He should never have left the bard out of his sight in the first place. 

_ And now he's dead  _

His bard was dead. Would never play those ridiculous songs again. Would never look at him again with those bright blue eyes or smile at him with that beautiful carefree grin anymore. He was gone. Dead and gone. 

_ It isn't too late to fix this _

Geralt sobbed into Jaskier's shoulder,still pressing the lifeless body against his chest through the bars.

And then something shifted inside of Geralt, like a switch flipped. Something dark and careless and selfish and long forgotten raised its head inside of him and took over. 

No. 

_ No.  _

He couldn't accept this. He wouldn't accept it. Not like this. Not this sudden. Not without a chance to say goodbye, to tell Jaskier all those things he'd never told him because he'd been too scared of the reaction. 

_ There's still time  _

He couldn't accept living in a world without Jaskier in it. There was still time. There was still something he could do. And he knew that he shouldn't do it. That it was dumb and dangerous and probably wouldn't work and would only make things worse. But he just didn't care. 

_I have_ _to try_

He had to try. At least try. To fix his mistake. To bring the bard back. 

_ It isn't fair _

And it wasn't fair. That Jaskier had died so young and so sudden and so violently. It wasn't fair to Jaskier. He'd deserved so much more than this, so much better than to die in the cursed basement of an abandoned house, all by himself and full of pain and fear. It wasn't fair and Geralt would not stand by it. 

_ I will play one last trick  _

There was one last trick up Geralt's sleeve. He would cast the spell, the spell from the tome up in the library. He would bring Jaskier back, no matter the cost. He had to. He  _ owed it _ to Jaskier, after he had  _ failed him so miserably.  _

_ Not much time _

He didn't have much time. Casting the spell would take a while and the longer it took the less likely it was to succeed. Luckily, Jaskier was still warm to his touch. He hadn't been dead long. Geralt drew in one last, deep breath of the bard's scent before getting to work. And he wouldn't be dead long, either, Geralt thought. 

_ He will live again  _

Geralt returned to the other room and started preparing. The first step of the spell was to brew a specific potion and drink it. 

_ There is still time to fix this _

But with a little luck… He walked over to the altars and inspected the bowl. It was pitch black, carved from obsidian. But at the bottom was a dried-up crust of green and purple, the former contents of the bowl. It would be enough. Geralt liked it up. It tasted stale and rotten and cold from the stone underneath. 

_ There is still enough time _

Most of the runes and inscriptions were also already drawn. That would cut down preparation time significantly as well. 

_ Still enough time, still time, still time  _

He grabbed the rusty dagger next and cut into his arm, close to the elbow. Then he scooped up the blood that was spilling out of the wound and painted the rest of the required symbols onto his still naked chest and abdomen and onto his face.

The dagger was very rusty, but Geralt didn't worry about blood poisoning. He had his witcher immunity. And besides, the ritual required a blood sacrifice after all. A life for a life. When he was done with the spell he wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore. 

_ Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up. _

_ Still time, still time, still time. _

Still, it would take a while to cast the spell. The chanting alone. And then he would have to light all those fucking candles first, that would take its sweet time. 

He got to work, quietly reciting in his head: There’s still time, still time, still time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will Jaskier be fine?  
> How are they gonna get out of this?  
> And will they finally get their shit together and kiss?  
> Tune in next week for the grand finale and find out!


	5. Jaskier: All Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is! The final chapter! No more cliffhangers xD
> 
> Have Fun!

Jaskier woke up in almost complete darkness. He was sitting upright, his head had lolled onto his shoulder and metal bars were pressing uncomfortably into his back. And even if he couldn’t see all the blood in the darkness, he could still feel it on his hands and all over his body, could still feel the throbbing pain in his guts that drowned out all the other stings of pain in every inch of his body.

_ I will die here _

He would die here, he realized, could feel the life draining from him already. 

_ All alone _

He would die here, all alone and forgotten. No one would find him. Because no one would come looking for him. Not even Geralt.

_ I have been betrayed _

Geralt had just stood there and watched as Jaskier was hurting, was bleeding out, hadn’t even raised a finger. Geralt didn’t care.

One last sob escaped Jaskier’s sore throat. He had run out of tears to cry. 

And now he would die here.  _ All alone in the darkness. And no one cares. No one is left to come for me. I have been betrayed. By the one I love, of all people. Have been so cruelly cast aside. Have been locked up here to die like some rabid animal. And it hurts so much and it is so cold. I’d never thought dying would hurt this much. And still I am in love, can't help it. Even if my love has betrayed me.  _

Jaskier curled up into a ball on the floor and accepted his fate. Icy coldness spread through his veins. He closed his eyes, not that it made a difference in the dark. And then he let himself drift away and the pain, finally, went numb.

...

_ If only I could see her face one more time. _

…

.....

Huh.

…

That was weird.

…

Forming thoughts was difficult and slow, like honey dripping from a spoon.

Had he just thought  _ her face _ ? 

Jaskier slowly drifted back towards consciousness and yelped, because the pain was coming back along with it. 

The only face that he desperately wanted to see one last time was Geralt’s, despite everything.

And Geralt wasn’t a her.

… 

Those hadn’t been his thoughts.

He opened his eyes and promptly vomited a wave of blood on the floor, wincing in pain. 

But if those weren’t his thoughts…

...then maybe those weren’t his wounds either?

The pain immediately vanished. Jaskier gasped, surprised. He sat up and frantically patted himself up and down. There were no wounds there. His stomach was intact and unharmed. His hands were dry, there was no blood, as if it had never been there. 

“Hah…” he huffed.

“Hah, I’m...it’s over, I’m still alive!”

He tried to calm his racing thoughts and to make some sense of what happened.

He had heard someone else’s thoughts in his head. Even more, had thought them like they were his own thoughts. Something...Someone had possessed him. Someone who lived through his last moments before death. He gulped. 

And that someone had been beaten and then stabbed in the guts and left to die. 

And he had been betrayed by the woman he loved.

How bittersweet.

But that wouldn’t be Jaskier's end.

He looked around. And saw nothing. It was pitch black. Great. 

But then he noticed a bit of light trickling through the gaps in...in whatever. Probably the exit. Hopefully.

But the light was eerily green and flickered in a way that didn’t seem very natural and how light should behave at all. 

Ah fuck, it was always something, wasn’t it? 

And where the hell was Geralt, anyway? 

His stomach curled into a knot. He had a very bad feeling. 

Jaskier got up and marvelled for a moment at how easy it was and how no pain shot through him in response. Then he carefully made his way towards the flickering light, testing out the floor with his toes before making each step. 

And still he promptly ran into something. 

“Unf.” 

He was stopped by an iron bar. And another one next to it. And more next to that. He felt around and then came to the conclusion that he was locked up in some kind of cell. Right. Fucking great. 

He felt around some more until he was standing in front of what he thought to be the cell door and rattled on it. It was locked. He was locked up in a cell somewhere in almost complete darkness. Just his luck.

But that was fine because he had an idea on how to deal with the situation. He took a step backward and shot a stern look at the cell door, which was very impressed by it, he was certain, and then inhaled deeply.

“I bet ya you’re not actually locked, are you?” he told the door. 

The door seemed to consider his words for a moment. 

And then it swung open with a long creaking noise. 

Jaskier grinned. It had been another illusion. And apparently those stopped working as soon as he fully realized that they weren't real. 

He moved out of the cell and shot one last look at the door (or where he thought it to be anyway) 

“Yeah, that’s right. And you could use some oil, too!"

He continued inching closer to the flickering light.

He finally made his way to where the light was coming through and felt a door under his hands. He pushed down the handle and tried to open it. The door didn’t move at all.

He huffed and then tried again, leaning his entire weight against the door. And it budged and opened abruptly, making Jaskier tumble a few steps into the room behind it.

What he saw there was, despite everything that had happened, the most fucking insane scene he had seen all night. Or ever. 

He found himself in a small, natural cave. Sickly-green light oozed from dozens and dozens of candles all over the room. In the middle was a stone altar. Next to the altar lay Geralt’s sword, carelessly discarded. Geralt himself was kneeling on top of the altar, a rusty old knife in his hand and various complicated symbols painted onto him from...Well from head to the waist of his pants really. 

Painted in Geralt’s own blood, Jaskier realized, as a single drop of blood fell from a wound on Geralt's arm. 

Geralt was chanting something in a language Jakier didn’t understand and seemingly hadn’t noticed Jaskier, although his entrance had really not been subtle. Oh boy. 

Magic was swooshing around the room, waxing and waning in rhythm with Geralt’s chanting and a soft wind, that by all means shouldn’t be in a bloody cave, blew the long hair around Geralt’s face and tugged on Jaskier’s shirt. The hair on his arms stood up. 

And then Geralt suddenly stopped chanting, sat up straighter and raised the dagger over his head, the tip pointing at his heart.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck no!” 

Jaskier darted across the room, as fast as he could, and he made it, only just, and grabbed Geralt’s wrists to stop him from piercing the dagger into his heart. All he could hear for a moment was his own thunderous heartbeat, drowning out all other sounds.

He had to use his entire body as a lever to hold back against Geralt’s arms. And still Geralt was stronger. Jaskier’s feet were sliding slowly across the floor, the knife inching further down with every bit of ground Jaskier lost. He knew that if he let go, the knife would immediately plunch straight into Geralt’s chest.

“Geralt,” Jaskier growled slowly, his voice straining from the effort.

Geralt just stared straight ahead into the distance, his eyes strangely empty and glassy. He was only instinctively and silently struggling against the obstacle hindering his movement, but he didn’t even really notice Jaskier’s presence. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Geralt, snap out of it, I can’t hold this much longer!” he yelled in the witcher’s face. Geralt didn’t even flinch. 

“I need to bring him back,” Geralt mumbled. 

Oh, shit. Looked like the person that had possessed Jaskier hadn’t been all that betrayed and forgotten by his lover after all.

“...still time to fix this”

And Geralt was, in turn, possessed by said lover. Who was trying to bring her dead beloved back to life. 

Not that this realization helped him much right now. 

The knife jerked down another inch or so. Jaskier gritted his teeth and growled. It probably didn’t sound anything near as impressive as when Geralt did that. The wind that was blowing around the cave picked up and a faint echo of Geralt’s earlier chanting filled the air out of nowhere. 

He had to snap Geralt out of this, and fast.

Ok, Jaskier, think!

Geralt was currently under the impression that his beloved was dead and he had to bring her back. 

He had to somehow convince Geralt that his love was still very much alive.

Fuck, where was Yennefer when one needed her?

The knife sank down deeper as Jaskier's feet slid across the floor. He was losing ground quickly. 

Okay, he would go over the situation again. There had to be something that would help. Come on, Jaskier, think!

Geralt was possessed by the spirit of someone who wanted to bring her dead lover back to life. 

Her dead lover who had possessed Jaskier earlier. 

Maybe that counted for something. Maybe Jakier could somehow double as proof that Geralt’s love wasn’t dead. Maybe Jaskier would count because he had been in the spot of the spirit’s beloved. 

It would have to suffice.

Fuck, this had better work. 

Jaskier leaned forward, closed his eyes and placed a kiss on Geralt’s lips. 

  
  
  


The pressure of Geralt’s arms pushing down immediately vanished and Jaskier tumbled forward, no longer pushing against anything, and awkwardly fell into Geralt’s lap. The dagger fell to the ground with a loud “clonk” which echoed loudly through the now suddenly quiet cave. The wind and the chanting and everything had suddenly disappeared and the candles around them burned red and normal again. 

Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s shoulders and shoved him back. 

“Did you just kiss me?” he hissed, eyes wide with shock. 

Oh, ok, wow. That wasn’t the usual reaction Jaskier tended to get for his kisses. Granted, it hadn’t been one of his finest works, but in his defense, it had been a very desperate moment. 

The absurdity of the situation hit him and a laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside of him. It came out as a short, crazy cackle. 

“Oh, wow Geralt, I think you really need to sort out your priorities here!”

Geralt squinted at him. “I think you kissing me out of nowhere is quite a high priority. What the fuck, Jaskier?”

And then relief washed over Jaskier, and he had still been somewhat catching his balance from when Geralt had shoved him back, and this was all just too absurd and surreal and it was over, finally and Jaskier half fell, half tumbled to the floor and couldn’t help but giggle uncontrollably. 

“Oh my gosh, Geralt have you...hah, fuck, oh, Geralt have you  **looked** at yourself recently?” He managed to press out, holding his belly, which was hurting from laughter now. 

Geralt quickly glanced down his body before glaring at Jaskier again and then he did a double-take and stared at his rune-covered torso and spread his arms to better see it and poked his fingers at the sigils. 

“What the fuck?” he repeated, a lot softer this time but with equal confusion. 

“What’s going on, Jaskier?” 

“Oh, you know, nothing much, you’ve just been possessed by some girl that wanted to bring back her dead lover by making you kill yourself, and said dead lover had apparently posessed me earlier, but I snapped out of it eventually. So when I found you here I bravely swooped in and freed you from your delusions and saved the day by kissing you. So, you know, nothing much, just the usual."

He had finally managed to stop giggling and sat up straighter, studying Geralt, who was still kneeling on the stone altar. 

“Oh, this will make for a lovely ballad indeed,” he mused. “The all-powerful kiss of a bard’s love and the helpless witcher in the clutches of an evil mage-ghost-thingy. Basically writes itself. I’ll call it 'the witcher in distress'. Oh it will be grand! I saved your ass and you better believe I will never let you live this down! Oh, also please refrain from judging the kiss. It wasn’t my proudest work, but I think the circumstances can excuse that, don’t you think?” His hands twitched to his back out of habit, but his lute was still upstairs. 

Geralt stared at him in horror, his mouth open.

“Right. Sure. So that happened. No big deal, just…the usual. Gotcha,” he huffed.    
“Just your average haunting. Right. I’d better go and exorcise that.” 

He grunted and climbed off the stone slab and made his way to the door, casually stepping on his sword and flipping it into his hand on the way. Jaskier, still sitting on the floor, tilted his head to the side and watched the witcher’s ass shamelessly. He felt he deserved that after what he’d been through. 

Suddenly, Geralt stopped dead in his tracks a few feet from the door, as if he had walked into an invisible wall. Jaskier was startled out of his very important observations. Without looking at him, Geralt growled: “Are you coming Jaskier?”

“Hm? What? Oh yeah, sure, I’m coming.”

He scrambled to his feet and hurried after the witcher.

A few feet before he had reached him, Geralt spoke again, making Jaskier stop walking closer. The witcher seemed very tense.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked the door.

“Hmm?” Jaskier asked Geralt’s back. 

“We broke free, but the haunting might try to take effect on us again.” Geralt explained to the door.

“Oh,” Jaskier remarked. He wasn’t too worried. He didn’t feel like the haunting could have an effect on him again, now that he’d figured it out and overcome it. 

“It still has a physical hold over the house. It might try to separate us again. Like with the door that suddenly shut between us.”

“Oh,” Jaskier repeated. Yeah, that hadn’t been so great. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb over his palm where it had been burned by the doorknob earlier. 

“We need to make sure we don’t get separated again.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Jaskier replied.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked the door. 

“Hmm?” Jaskier asked Geralt’s back. 

Still without looking back at him, Geralt stretched out his sword-free hand towards Jaskier.

“Please hold my hand Jaskier!"

“Oh,” Jaskier remarked. 

  
  


They made their way through the door and back up the stairs with their hands tightly clenched together. And it felt so good, felt so right to just hold Geralt’s hand that he nearly started crying. He tried to commit every moment of this, every little touch and pressure and movement on his hand to memory because he knew he wouldn’t get an opportunity like this again. 

They emerged onto the first floor just as the first strands of sunlight crept through the windows, the storm of the previous night had dispersed. Geralt shot a quick glance at him. How beautiful and metaphorical it all was, Jaskier mused. He’d definitely include that in his ballad. He’d probably have to leave out the wonderful hand holding though. How unfortunate. But at least he’d have the memory all to himself then. 

The trail of blood Jaskier had left earlier was still visible, he noticed, but it was much older now, seeped into the wooden floor and faded. 

Together they made their way back to the entry hall, where Roach was waiting for them. She greeted them with a huff as if to comment on their hands clenched together. Geralt immediately let go of his hand and hurried over to Roach, pressing his face into her neck and quietly whispering into her ear. 

Jaskier pouted. 

Right. Left standing for a horse. Just the usual when travelling with Geralt of Rivia. Though he really hadn’t had any reason to assume it would turn out different, had he?

Geralt’s face finally reemerged from Roach’s fur after several moments. Boy, Geralt had really missed that horse. He wondered if Yennefer ever got jealous. He knew he was.

“Right. You take Roach and wait outside. I’ll perform the exorcism ritual. It’ll take about an hour or two maybe.”

“Oh-hoh-ho no, no, no, no,” Jaskier protested. “Oh no, that’s not happening. I’ll let you go in there and then you won’t be back out in 'an hour or maybe two' and I’ll have to venture back down there into that creepy basement and save your ass again. Oh no, I’m not on board.” 

“I can take care of myself, Jaskier,” Geralt growled. 

“Oh yeah, and how did that work out for you last time? Absolutely swimmingly, huh? No, I’m definitely coming with to keep an eye on you!” he insisted. And also, there would probably be more hand holding involved, Jaskier thought. 

Geralt replied with a growl and mumbled something under his breath. 

“Wonderful. So that’s decided then," Jaskier settled. 

They did first bring Roach outside though, so that she could munch on the grass a little. And then they made their way back to the bedroom to retrieve their stuff, hands clenched together all the way. Everything was untouched and where they had left it. 

They started out by getting dressed. Jaskier’s clothes were still a little damp, but it wasn’t too bad and it was already a lot warmer outside than it had been the last couple of days. 

Jaskier reluctantly parted with Geralt’s shirt, it had been with him through so much now. Geralt stuffed it back into his bag. 

When they were all done, they started going through the house, room by room, quickly working out a routine. 

Geralt had to recite some complicated chant Jaskier didn’t understand and burn and wave around some specific herbs and Jaskier would sit in the corner to not be in the way and stare up at the witcher dreamily, and when Geralt was done they’d move to the next room, never passing under any door frame without holding hands. 

He was certain it was clearly visible in his face how lovestruck and in awe he was with Geralt while he stared at him, but hey, he had just almost died. He could allow himself to live a little today. And if Geralt should notice anything, he could just blame it on the whole ordeal that his eyes were a little hazy. But Geralt didn’t notice anyway. When they had finally made their way to the basement and Geralt had performed his thing there, it was a little anticlimactic, because nothing much happened. But Jaskier could still feel a certain tension in the air vanish, so it had probably worked. 

Geralt grabbed his hand again on the way back upstairs, only letting go when they’d walked out the front door. But he probably just wanted to make sure, even though he’d finished the exorcism. 

And then Jaskier sat down in the grass outside while Geralt put the saddle back on Roach and organised their stuff. 

Jaskier pondered over his memories of the night and his emotional state of the moment. 

What a night, he thought. 

He had kissed Geralt, he thought. 

Badly, he thought. 

Geralt strolled over after he was done with their belongings and joined Jaskier in staring down the house. 

“You know, this is my first time performing an exorcism like that. We could always burn it down, just to be sure."

Jaskier looked up at him, his eyes sparkling. He kind of liked watching things burn. This would be so much fun!

“Yes, let’s do it!” he cheered. 

When the house was full on burning, they both sat cross legged in front of it, a bit further away so the heat wasn’t uncomfortable and with a few feet between them. Roach was strolling around between them, munching grass. 

“I’m sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt startled him. He had lost himself in the flames a little. He looked over at Geralt, curious.

The witcher was still staring straight into the flames, but he kept talking, ripping out the grass in front of his legs absentmindedly. “I’m really sorry. I’m a witcher, for fuck’s sake. It shouldn’t have taken me over like it did. It should’ve been me saving you. I can only imagine what you endured.” 

Jaskier sighed, the memory of the pain he had felt softly knocking against the very back of his memory. “Yeah, well, you can’t always be the hero I suppose, you’ve got to leave some saving-the-day for the ordinary folk every once in a while.” He’d picked a daisy out from the grass in front of him and pulled out the petals one by one. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad. Just a bit of searing pain and almost dying, you know. At least I didn’t think that the love of my life had died. I imagine that must’ve been so much worse.” 

And he meant it, too. Sort of. The pain had been terrible. Beyond comprehension even, but the worst part of last night had been when Geralt had just stared at him with disdain and not reacted to Jaskier's pleads. 

No, actually the worst part had been when Geralt's life had been in danger and he had been so sure that he wouldn't be able to do enough to stop it.

For several minutes there was only the sound of crackling fire between them. But then Geralt continued: "Is that how you managed to snap out of it? Because the voice in your head was musing over how his beloved had not come for him and you noticed that was odd because you're not in love currently?" 

Jaskier stared at Geralt, surprised. 

"I mean, I know you talk about women all the time and particularly the Countess de Stael" Geralt continued. "But that always seemed like… It always appeared to me like that was of a more…. physical nature." 

Jaskier gulped. "Y-yeah, that's exactly it, that's how I caught on. You got me there. It was off ‘cause I'm not in love right now, yup,' he rambled. 

"Hmm," Geralt said and they fell silent again. 

Jaskier furrowed his brows. Huh. Something struck him as odd. 

"So did you also hear a voice in your head then?" Jaskier asked. 

Geralt grunted. "Yes, but it didn't feel like just a voice. It felt like my own thoughts, like I was thinking those things myself. It was very convincing." 

"Right," Jaskier replied. "But then didn't it seem weird to you when you thought something like 'I have to save him' or something like that?" he looked up at Geralt. "I mean Yennefer's not exactly a 'him'". 

Geralt looked away suddenly and mumbled something under his breath and. Blushed? Could witchers even blush? Like, biologically, with the slowed heart rate and all? But there were definitely some red spots on the witcher’s cheeks, prominent on the pale skin. No. It had to be a trick of the light. 

"Sorry, what was that?" he asked. Geralt turned even redder. 

But even if witchers could blush, he had never witnessed Geralt embarrassed. He didn't have that setting. Only annoyance and irritation. 

"Right," Geralt sighed finally. "I, uhm. I've been in love with someone else for a while now. A man."

"Oh?" 

"Yeah."

Jaskier stared back at the flames and picked out grass around him. He had been vaguely wondering about that for a while. Whether the witcher wasn't attracted to men in general or just not to Jaskier specifically. He would've liked the other version better, he thought. It felt more like a personal failure this way. 

"Who is he?" Jaskier asked after a few minutes of silence. Geralt flinched. What a weird reaction. Then Geralt sighed and buried his face in his hands. Oh. That much in love then. A sharp pain shot through Jaskier's chest. 

"Fuck, Jaskier. It's you okay?" Geralt mumbled into his hands. "I didn't want to tell you because I know it's unrequited and I didn't want things to get weird between us." 

Jaskier stared at him in shock, trying to process those words.

"I, uhm… that…" he stuttered. A million questions were racing through his head, like 'What?' and 'Are you sure?' and 'Could you maybe help me find my marbles in this grass here? I think I just lost them.' 

He shook his head. He had to settle on something.

"And you just decided that then, yeah?" he snarled. "Just like that?" 

Geralt dropped his hands from his face and held them up non-threateningly, confused at Jaskier's suddenly hostile tone. 

"N-no, of course not. It just happened. I don't think anyone ever actually chooses to fall in love." 

"Not that part, you idiot!" he hissed. "The part where it's supposedly unrequited. Because let me inform you that I am indeed  **very** much in love with you, and I know for a fact that  **my** love for  **you** is unrequited, so jot that down!" 

Geralt jumped to his feet. An impressive move. Jaskier considered following suit, but his knees felt rather wobbly and he wouldn’t win this argument if he fell on his nose. So he just sat upright on his knees. 

“Bullshit!” Geralt growled. “I’ve been in love with you for, I don’t know, a couple of months now, and you’ve never shown any kind of interest in me. In fact, I would even argue you are repulsed by my body.” 

“I’ve been flirting with you the whole time!” Jaskier screamed back.

“That’s just how you talk to everybody!” Geralt returned. 

Jaskier tilted his head. Okay yeah, that was a fair point actually. 

"What do you mean, I'm repulsed by you?" he shouted instead. "That's ridiculous!" 

"Oh yeah?" Geralt snapped. "Whenever I make a point of showing some skin to you, you always try very hard to look at anything  **but** me. And whenever we sleep in the same bed together you're always so uncomfortable, you toss and turn and can't fall asleep all night!" 

"Wow, okay yeah that's rich," Jaskier mused. "Has it ever occurred to you, that maybe, just maybe I'm trying so hard to focus on anything but you because I don't want to suddenly get hard around you? You, however, don't seem to have that problem at all, you always sleep like a baby next to me, even when I'm half naked and only wearing your shirt. And then you always get up as fast as possible the next morning, like you can't get away from me fast enough!"

Geralt blushed again. A vein on his forehead protruded from anger. 

"I sleep so well because I feel  **safe** around you! Safer than around anyone else. Safer than by myself. You make me feel more  **human** !" 

Oh. Jaskier gulped. 

Geralt laughed dryly. 

"And yes, I do always hurry to the washroom or the nearest stream first thing in the morning," Geralt continued waving his hands around for emphasis. “Can you maybe, just maybe figure out what I'm busy doing there? Hm? Maybe?"

Oh. That. Made a lot of sense, actually. 

"But I kissed you earlier, and you shoved me away!" he protested, and he couldn't help the tears shooting into his eyes. 

"That's not fair," Geralt hissed. "I didn't know what was happening. I was fucking waking up from a trance, and there you were, right in my face and kissing me. I panicked. I thought something was wrong!" 

"Well something  **was** wrong!" Jaskier shouted back. What point was he even making anymore? 

Geralt's voice grew calm and quiet suddenly. "And on top of it all, the last time I had seen you, you were dea…It appeared like you were…" Geralt's voice trailed off. Tears glittered at the corners of the witcher’s eyes. 

They stared at each other for a minute, breathing hard. 

“Fuck!” Jaskier yelled into the clearing, startling Geralt so much he took a few steps backwards. Jaskier buried his face in his hands. “Oh gods, we are so stupid!” he sobbed. “Oh, no one can ever find out about this. Oh, can you imagine if someone, oh gods if  **Yennefer** knew how dumb we are? Oh, we would not live that down. Actually, never mind, we would not survive that!” he shrieked. 

And then Geralt was by his side and pulled him up to his feet and wrapped his arms around Jaskier, his lips hard and desperate against Jaskier's. And Jaskier wrapped his hands into the front of Geralt’s shirt and pulled Geralt towards him and pressed his lips even harder against Geralt's mouth. And it was so good, it was so much better than their first kiss in the cave, and oh gods, this was their second kiss already, wasn’t it? And it was so good. So perfect. And it didn’t matter how wobbly Jaskier’s knees were, because Geralt held him tightly in his arms, and he couldn’t have fallen over either way. 

They parted, both panting for air. Geralt put his hand on the back of Jaskier’s head and ruffled through his hair and Jaskier buried his face in the witcher’s chest, just between his hands that were still clutching Geralt’s shirt. He felt so safe, so protected. It was incredible. And then…

And then he slowly woke up from being thrown back and forth. He was sitting on Roach, who was galloping through the woods. 

“What the fuck?” he huffed. 

Geralt, who was sitting behind him and had his arms wrapped around him, pulled on the reins and Roach slowly came to a halt. 

Geralt gently pushed him to the side and turned him around by his shoulder, holding Jaskier's weight with his arm so he wouldn’t slide off, and put the other hand on Jaskier’s chin and turned his head until he was looking almost directly at the witcher. He looked at Jaskier with a dead serious expression. 

  
  


“Uh. What happened?” Jaskier asked carefully. 

“Hmm,” Geralt said. “I’ll tell you what happened.” 

Oh gods, that sounded serious. Was this maybe one of those dumb moments where something lovely happened and then one wakes up and it had all been a dream? Oh, no, it couldn’t be, that would be too cruel!

“We were having this lovely, passionate kiss in front of the burning house…”

Oh, good, so that had happened!

“And then I cradled you against my chest and stroked your hair and just as I considered if I should kiss you again…”

Geralt made a dramatic pause. And then his serious expression turned into the biggest, shit-eating grin Jaskier had ever seen on him, had ever seen on anyone, in fact.

“...just as I considered that, you started snoring against my chest.”

“No!” Jaskier whispered, eyes wide with horror. 

“It was rather impressive really. I’d never before seen anyone sleeping while standing perfectly upright before.” 

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier sighed. 

“And I would just like to inform you that I will obviously never let you live this down. Ever.” 

“That’s fair," Jaskier muttered. Roach neighed in agreement. 

Geralt pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s cheek before letting go of him and Jaskier’s torso automatically turned forward again since he wasn’t held back anymore. Geralt cradled him against his chest and whispered into his ear, his long hair tickling against Jaskier’s cheek, and it sent all sorts of twists and knots through his stomach, but in such a good way. 

“Lean against my chest and sleep some more, if you can. We’ll reach the village soon and then you can sleep in a proper bed for as long as you want.” The tickling strands of hair disappeared from his cheek. But then a moment later they appeared again, by his other ear this time.

“Oh, and I should probably inform you," Geralt continued, “that I  **will** be cuddling you and I will  **not** care if you get hard or anything. Quite the opposite, actually. I hope those terms are agreeable to you.”

Jaskier considered for a moment and then nodded. "That sounds very agreeable to me!" 

They rode off into the sunset. Well not really, into the midday sun more like. But that's how he'd sing about it, anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! :3

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated! Thank you~  
> Say hi on [tumblr](https://justablobfish.tumblr.com/), if you want!


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